EldaQuenta
by valinorean
Summary: :: DISCONTINUED :: A short visit to the Shire and Legolas finds himself telling the story of the three Ages of Middle-Earth...and a love long forgotten. Based on the Silmarillion. :: Legolas/Glorfindel SLASH ::
1. Prologue: Gaer-lomin

**Disclaimers:** I do not own Tolkien's wonderful wonderful universe…merely borrowing this fine piece of literature. I've borrowed The Silmarillion and RotK Appendices for this.  
  
Movie Spoilers: Probably some from RotK, but it's mostly from the LotR Appendices and Silmarillion, so not much I guess.  
  
AN: Umm…feedback greatly appreciated! I just love this book since I first read it when I was a kid. A bit of research was done for this story…especially on the different houses of the elves and their languages *wipes sweat* Oh, and this is the book version, not the one where Arwen swoops down and saves Frodo. (I hate movie Arwen, but I like her in the book!)  
  
**Warning!** contains SLASH! (male x male relationships) this is your chance to back out. Remember, you're NOT being forced to read this!  
  
Pairing: Legolas/Glorfindel (elven-slash!); others…depends, if the story allows.  
  
Rating: G as of now, but ratings will climb on later parts.  
  
  
**EldaQuenta  
**_(Account of the Eldar)  
_by Valacirca  
  
  
**Prologue: Gaer-lómin (Echo of the Sea)  
**  
  
_Legolas Greenleaf long under tree  
In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!  
If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,  
Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.[i]  
_  
  
"Have you ever dreamed of going somewhere and staying there until the end of your days?"  
  
The soft whispers of a song halted and a pair of elven-eyes questioned the other.  
  
"Pippin and I, we are getting old Legolas," continued the hobbit. "I feel like Old Bilbo when he disappeared on his eleventy-oneth birthday. I want to see the Ents! again and the horses of the Mark! I miss the Company," came the faint whispers of the last statement.  
  
"Eomer is dying you know," he started quietly, the voice barely above a whisper but the elf could hear him nonetheless. "He wanted me to come visit him before he dies. And I miss Gondor. I miss Aragorn."  
  
"You still have time my friend. Go and follow the bidding of your heart," replied the elf.  
  
The two old friends were sitting on a garden porch overlooking the Smials, the vast dwelling of the Tooks headed by The Thain, Peregrin Took.  
  
It was the Spring of 1484 SR[ii], 63 years after the Ring Bearer passed over the Sea, when a messenger from Rohan came for Merry Brandybuck. King Eomer of the Mark wishes to see Master Holdwine again before he passed away.  
  
After the War, Aragorn son of Arathorn was crowned King Elessar of both Gondor and the North. During this time, the Elves started to fade and Men now held control over the lands. The Fourth Age of the world has come.  
  
The Shire however, was under the protection of the Northern Crown and no man can set foot within its borders without leave.  
  
Merry and Pippin would occasionally ride through The Shire bearing the armors of Gondor and Riddermark, singing songs of battle and glorious deeds from foreign lands. And due to some magic with the draught from the streams of the Ents, both grew taller than most hobbits that it would look like a wonder seeing them riding though Hobbitton, among the little people, in their bright shields and brilliant armors. Merry became the Master of Buckland and Pippin the Lord of Smials in their later years.  
  
Legolas and Gimli were able to fulfill their bargain. Both journeyed through Fangorn Forest and were able to meet the Ents, much to Gimli's discomfort. In turn, Legolas accompanied his friend through the Glittering Caves where the dwarf showed him the many wonders of the said cavern. The dwarf then, along with some of his kin labored in those caves and made it one of the wonders of Middle-Earth. No other can be found more enchanting than the Glittering Caves save Khazad-dûm during Durin's age.  
  
Although The Company continues to visit each other, never again was the Fellowship united since the last parting in Fangorn Forest, nor wholly complete since the fall of Gandalf on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm.  
  
Suddenly, an elderly hobbit and a dwarf came ambling up to them.  
  
"Hullo Legolas! You should have come with us and see the Smials," said the hobbit proud to show off his vast home. "What have you been doing out here rotting anyway?"  
  
"I've had as good a time here among the beeches as Master Dwarf had with you in your holes," Legolas said good-naturedly.  
  
"Holes!" the Took cried out indignantly. The Smials is the biggest hobbit dwelling that can be found in The Shire. He turned to the dwarf for aid. "He called the Smials holes Gimli!"  
  
But the dwarf could only laugh.  
  
"Well then Legolas, since it's a very rare occasion that you come visit us (the last being a decade ago! And Gimli always had to drag you away from either woods or the Sea before that!) come, tell us an elven-tale. It's been a while when I last heard one since the elves moved out of Rivendell," said Pippin.  
  
"It must have been fun being an elf and never dying except when in war or grief," said Merry, still not snapping out of his grief.  
  
"Nay, Master Meriadoc. The grief of an elf lies buried deep in ages forgotten, but there are also memories worth remembering," Legolas replied trying to lift the older hobbit's gloom. "I still remember when Gloin, father of Gimli, came tumbling down my father's dungeons, and into the river, inside wine barrels! Along with dear Bilbo of course."[iii]  
  
"Oi!" cried the dwarf. "Do not stir old grudges with your jests Legolas."  
  
"Old grudges of our sires are not for us to meddle in, friend Gimli," replied the elf.  
  
This seemed to snap Merry from his depression and smiled a little.  
  
"Come now, a tale! Legolas," Pippin reminded the elf.  
  
"Unquenchable hobbit, as Gandalf used to say," said Legolas. "And what tale would you wish to hear Master Took?"  
  
"What is it that you're singing a moment ago, Legoas?" asked Merry.  
  
"A moment ago?" the elf tilted his head a fraction to the side. "Ah, it's but a fragment of the Lay of Eärendil on the Fall of Gondolin. It runs thus in the common tongue:  
  
_And more is told  
in lays and in legend and lore of others  
of that weary way of the wandering folk;  
how the waifs of Gondolin outwitted Melko,  
vanished o'er the vale and vanquished the hills,  
how Glorfindel the Golden in the gap of the Eagles  
battled with the Balrog and both were slain:  
one like flash of fire from fanged rock,  
one like bolted thunder black was smitten  
to the dreadful deep digged by Thornsir.[iv]  
_  
"Glorfindel?" asked Pippin. "Isn't Glorfindel the name of the elf who rescued Frodo from the Riders after the attack on weathertop?"  
  
"Yes, the same Glorfindel," said Legolas quietly. "Though he did not die like the tales tell. We all thought he did."  
  
"Do you know him Legolas? What of his tale?"  
  
"I've known Glorfindel since my people first saw the stars of Elbereth in Cuiviénen," a shadow of grief lay hidden on the old and weary eyes of the elf. "But telling you his tale would mean telling you the first two ages of this world!"  
  
"But we have lots of time," replied the Took. "And besides, we would dearly like to know the story of Middle-Earth before we die you know."  
  
"Very well then…"  


TBC...  
---------------------------

[i] LotR, The Two Towers. Galadriel's message to Legolas.  
[ii] Shire Reckoning. The system of calendar in the Shire.  
[iii] The Hobbit.  
[iv] Lay of Beleriand. Lay of Eärendil, P172 


	2. Part One: Makililta

**Disclaimers:** I do not own Tolkien's wonderful wonderful universe…merely borrowing this fine piece of literature (without his consent!). But I'm not making any penny out of anything, so there.

AN: Umm…feedback greatly appreciated! I just love this book since I first read it when I was a kid. A bit of research was done for this story…especially on the different houses of the elves and their languages *wipes sweat*

Rating: PG13 as of now for slash hints (just to be safe), but ratings will climb on later parts.

**Warning!** contains SLASH! (male x male relationships) this is your chance to back out. Remember, you're NOT being forced to read this!

Pairing: Legolas/Glorfindel (elven-slash!); others…depends, if the story allows. 

Summary: A boring part. A bit of backgrounder about the history of the Elves and the line from where Legolas came from (in theory, that is). But I believe he's much younger than this, but it works for the story anyway. Nitpickers forgive me! Also the first meeting of Glorfindel and Legolas!

**EldaQuenta   
_(Account of the Eldar)   
_by Valacirca **

**Part One: Makililta (Sword Dance)**

They are the Firstborn, the Quendi, the Elves. They are the first of the Children of Ilúvatar, the One, and to them he gave a gift. Fairest are they of all earthly creatures. The Elves die not till the world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief; neither does age subdue their strength, unless one grew weary of then thousand centuries.

There are those who are called the Avari, the Elves who refused the Great Journey from Cuiviénen, the Waters of Awakening, where they first awoke.

And there are those who obeyed the summon of the Valar, the Powers of the World, created by Ilúvatar. They are called the Eldar, the People of the Stars. They forsook their ancient home and joined the march to the West. The Western land has several names from different tongues. Some of which are Aman, the Blessed Realm, the Holy Lands, Undying Lands, and Valinor, the abode of the Valar.

But not all those who took the journey made it to Aman. Not a few strayed from the path and turned back, nor got lost or forsook the march to dwell in the forests of Arda, the Realm of the Earth. And they were called the Úmanyar, the Eldar who are not of Aman.

The Elves of the Great Journey were arrayed in three hosts. The first to set forth were the smallest. They are called the Vanyar, the Fair Elves, and was led by Ingwë, the highest lord of all the Elvish race.

Next came the Noldor, the Deep Elves who delight in craft and knowledge. They are the people of Finwë.

The largest host came in last and they are called the Teleri, for they tarry in the road and were not wholly of a mind to leave the great Realm of Arda. In waters they take delight and became the Sea-Elves in the land of Aman. They had two lords for their number was great. Elwë Singollo and Olwë his brother.

Both the Vanyar and the Noldor went to Aman, but of the Teleri only a few have reached it. Among those who reached not the lands of Valinor was Elwë and he became a king in Beleriand. He was called Thingol, King Grey-mantle and the Sindar were his people, the Grey-Elves.

When the host of the Teleri came to the eastern banks of Anduin the Great, even before they entered the land of Beleriand, one arose from the host of Olwë; Lenwë he was called and forsook the westward march. And with him came a numerous people and the Telerin host was diminished.

They are called the Nandor, they became a people apart from their kin save for their love of water. They dwelt beside the falls and running streams and became most knowledgeable of the living things, birds and beasts, trees and herbs, and they were the first to teach the Ents speech.

With them came the house of Oroper, father of Thranduil, father of Legolas. A great friendship he had with Lenwë, very much like that of Finwë and Elwë.

But when the threat of a growing shadow came and creatures of evil started roaming the lands, the Nandor entered Beleriand and dwelt in Ossiriand, the Land of the Seven Rivers.

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\

"Father, tell me where we're going!"

Thranduil waited patiently for his son to catch up before answering his question.

"To Hithlum in north-western Beleriand. Fingolfin, King of the Noldor is having a great feast."

The young elf turned to his father. "The Noldor? The ones who went to Aman as said in the songs?"

"Yes, it seems that the rumors are true that the High Elves of the West have returned, Legolas. It is also said that they return to pursue the Shadow that passed over to the north-east."

"I've never seen a Noldor before. What are they like, father?"

"I myself was then young and was born just before the great march," replied the older elf. "Our people were at the back of the march and the host of Elwë were between us and the Noldor so I knew them not.

"Also," the elf continued "they started the journey in spring whereas our people only left when the leaves of the trees in Cuiviénen turned golden. My father has spoken to them long ago in the ancient homes, but surely they have changed much since they went to the lands of the Valar."

The young elf was silent for a while pondering how the lords of the West would look like. He deemed them fair and wise for the light of the Valar were with them.

At last the young elf spoke again.

"Tell me of the stars father." Thranduil looked at his son.

"Why do you always ask about the stars, my son?"

"I wish I was born earlier," the young elf said. "I feel too young except at the company of the Atani. But few came ever to Ossiriand and none stayed too long. They are too fragile and die easily."

"Ilúvatar's gift to Men is curious indeed," his father replied "but you, my son, are blessed for you came to this world just as the Moon first rode across the heavens. Be glad that you were not able to witness the first War of this world."

"I know," the elf murmured. "I just wanted to see the world when there was no moon nor sun. I wanted to see what grandfather saw when he first awoke at Cuiviénen."

Thranduil understood him. He too missed the stretch of endless stars that Elbereth had adorned the heavens.

"That is Menelmacar with his shining belt that forebodes the Last Battle at the end of days. And that is Valacirca, the sign of doom of the Valar…"

And so the two elves made their way across Beleriand and into Hithlum.

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\

Legolas gaze in awe at the Noldor. The Laiquendi, the Ossiriand elves are a simple woodland people. Their delight is with the living creatures and care not for the crafts that the dwarves trafficked with the people of Elwë.

Of weapons they carry none save for slender bows with silver arrows, for they come not in open war and hid themselves in the forests of the land.

Great stores of armors, weapons, and gems, and other crafts of wonder he has seen at the halls of Thingol, but only a few came close to the ones the Noldor now wear, for they are the greatest craftsmen among elves.

And with them is Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin. None surpassed her beauty save one, Lúthien, daughter of Melian the Maia and Thingol of Doriath. But of the house of Finwë, she is the fairest. Her hair is lit in gold as the light of the Golden Tree of Valinor.

But what came most in wonder for the young elf were the Elves of the House of the Golden Flower. Yellow are their hair and bright their raiment.

Legolas knows no house that bear children with golden hair, save one or two from other houses and they were special. Hence he is fascinated with the people of the golden-hair.

The young elf was drawn to them and seeks their fellowship, but he dared not approach them. He instead joined the company of the grey-elves of Hithlum.

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\

Long and bountiful was the feast for the threat of the shadow whom they learned was Morgoth, the Black Enemy, was still. And no news came out of Angband, the stronghold of the Enemy.

Legolas, too young to understand the war council of the older elves, stole away to the woods of Hithlum. It is much different from the woods of his land and he longed to explore it, to see what woodland creatures thrive in the Land of Mist.

And so it was the Legolas came upon two elves, both with dark hair and bright swords. But what enchanted Legolas was the way the elves move. And it seemed to him that they were dancing amidst the woods and mist.

One held a sword in his right and a dagger in his left, turning and stooping in between the trees and at times brushing past the other who wields a long sword in his left hand.

Bright mails peek out from underneath billowing cloaks of blue and silver as one dodges the swift blows from the other. No loud clashes of steel were heard, only the sharp ringing as one weapon slide against each other in what look short of a caress.

Legolas stood transfixed in the shadows watching the dance of swords as if time no longer existed. Both elves now moved closer and closer and the there was music in the sounds of steel. And he heard not the soft approach of one golden-haired.

"This elven-dance is not for you to see."

Startled, Legolas jumped back and fell in the bushes. Beside him stood an elf watching the dance with hard eyes. He glanced at Legolas and resumed his gaze at the two.

"These are the High Elves of the house of Finwë," the golden-haired elf continued. "Fingon, son of Fingolfin, King of the Noldor in Aman. And the other is Maedhros, son of Fëanor, eldest of Finwë's sons. They will not hesitate to kill you if you are seen. Come."

Swiftly and silently they departed and looked not back. Here is a state that Legolas have not even imagined. To see a duel between two of the highest Noldor and a most fortunate rescue (if it can be called that, he mused) from one of the fair golden-haired elves.

He is rendered speechless for a while, but his curiosity overruled his fear and started questioning the other elf.

"May I know who you are?" Legolas asked tentatively. He knew not the customs of the Lords of the West and feared to anger them.

They halted at the edge of the woods, within sight of the dwelling of Fingolfin. Then the older elf stared at Legolas for a moment and it seemed as if he was trying to read the other's mind.

"I am called Glorfindel," he answered at last. "Chief of the House of the Golden Flower, a captain of Turgon's men. And who might you be, young one?"

Legolas' face grew red. "I'm not so young as you'd think!" he cried.

Then he calmly stated "I am called Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil. I…um…well, a simple woodland elf from Ossiriand," he stammered.

A golden eyebrow shot up.

"An Ossiriand elf?" Glorfindel asked in amazement. He placed a hand in his heart and said "It is an honor to meet you, Legolas of Ossiriand. To have come from such a long way, you must have been a great elf among your people."

"Uhh, not really. A lesser son of greater sires," the younger elf replied. "Why is it an honor for you?"

"Freedom," answered the older elf. "The elves of Ossiriand came from beyond Anduin, no? They roam free in the land of Arda, and even they heed not the arrogant King in Doriath. That is part of the reason why we returned."

"Oh," was the other's only reply. Though he understood not fully the meaning of the words, he deemed that they are about the wars against Morgoth, and of that he knows little.

"So, will you then tell me what they were doing and why?" Legolas said referring to the two elves in the woods.

"Hmm…they are of no concern to you, it is merely a…let's just say a Noldorin ritual," the golden-haired elf replied, half amused.

The woodland elf turned to his companion and tilted his head, as if waiting for him to continue.

"Oh alright," sighed Glorfindel. "It is called the Dance of Swords, a spirit dance for Aulë, the Valar smith. It is he who taught us our crafts, and this is one way of how we pay homage. He is beloved to the Noldor. The Sword Dance is seldom spoken of, much less taught."

Legolas gazed out with unseeing eyes, recalling the Sword Dance has seen.

"It is very beautiful, complex but beautiful."

"The steps are intricate and a miss would result in death," the older elf commented. "But the beauty of the dance lie not in the steps, but in those who dared to dance. This offering to Aulë is not for anyone to do nor see. It is usually reserved for the House of Finwë, or others with great will."

"Do you know how to do the Sword Dance, Glorfindel?" Legolas asked suspiciously. "You seem to know much, considering that the ritual is a secret one."

The golden-haired elf laughed a little.

"You're very perceptive for one so young," he said ignoring the glare that he received. "Yes, I was taught once, but never had the will to do it with another."

The woodland elf's grey eyes shined.

"Will you teach it to me then?"

"You know not what you ask."

"But will you teach it to me?" Legolas insisted, the beauty of the dance not leaving his vision.

"Maybe," came the quiet reply. "Someday, I may be able to teach it…"


	3. Part Two: Sereg-en-Dengin

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters here, the realm of Beleriand, nor Arda. Everything here is Tolkien's…just borrowing them ^_^

AN: *_* I soo~ wanted to learn Sindarin, but I'm barely keeping up with my Japanese classes in school _;;; Anyway, at least I was able to download that Tengwar format for my pc...now to figure out which letters are which. Ah well, I guess I'll have to settle for these one-word phrases for my titles *sweats*

Anyway, is it me or is the book Silmarillion making my life easier? There are some events and circumstances that don't need any modifications. It's as if the events are clicking into place in connection with the people O_O creating only a few flaws in the timeline (yes -- that Legolas is living in the first age is chalked up to literary license). Either that or I don't see the flaws between the timeline Tolkien created and mine.

Rating: PG13 as of now for slash hints (just to be safe), but ratings will probably climb on later parts.

**WARNING! SLASH!** Don't like? Don't read.

To all those who reviewed on the first two parts, thank you!!! *hugs* Hope you'll continue reading.

**EldaQuenta_  
(Account of the Eldar)_  
by Valacirca **

**Part Two: Sereg-en-dengin (_Blood of the Slain)_**

It was more of a silent watchfulness rather than peace that settled over Beleriand.

The threat of the shadow in the North are ever in the minds of the elves, but Morgoth thought that they have lapsed into careless wanderings about the realm of Arda with little thought of war.

And so Morgoth tested the strength and watchfulness of the elves and sent forth a host. But the host of orcs was utterly defeated, being assailed from both east and west by the hosts of Maedhros and Fingolfin.

And so there existed a Long Peace in Beleriand for about two hundred years.

At this time, Elf-lords would ride out on orc-hunting parties or just plain wandering. The realm of Arda is rather different and certainly not as glorious from whence they lived, but they took pleasure in wandering about for the lands were wild and beautiful.

Glorfindel was no exception. And the Ossiriand elf took delight in showing the Noldo his land.

"I hear…songs, but I see no one about."

"Of course," replied the wood-elf proudly. "We are not called Green Elves for nothing you know."

"Truly, this land deserves its name," the golden-haired elf smiled to his companion. "Lindon, the land of music."

The two companions then tramped in the woods of Ossiriand ("I still see none of your people!" "Then you blinder than I thought, a shame for an elf who came from the West." "Oi!").

In the end, Glorfindel was able to see the Nandor. And such was his surprise when he saw them talking to trees.

"By Elbereth, what is that?!" exclaimed the Noldo.

"Are you saying that you have not seen Ents before?" asked Legolas.

"No," curiously, Glorfindel stepped closer to the Ent and the two Nandor talking to it.

"They are the tree-sheperds, these Ents," Legolas explained. "We have seen them and befriended them from beyond Ered Lindon, and now they come visit us sometimes."

"Hail Legolas, son of Thranduil." An elf greeted his kin as they approach.

"Hail Firiel and Gilwen, sister-daughters of Denethor." Legolas greeted them in their tongue, Silvan.

Glorfindel, assuming that Ossiriand elves have not yet mastered the speech of the Noldor, spoke with them in Sindarin.

"Fair elf-maidens, I see that here is an Ent in your keeping," said the Elf-lord. "Pray would you tell me what it is you're trying to do with it?"

"No Ent could ever be at our keeping, my elf-lord," Firiel, the older of the two replied. "But we are trying to teach him to speak."

"Already, he knows a few words!" piped in Gilwen, the star maiden.

The Ent is now staring curiously at Glorfindel. It hoom-hummed a few times before uttering something distinguishably Sindarin[i].

_"Galad[ii]."_

Legolas smiled.

"It speaks of your hair," Legolas gestured to the Ent.

"Oh? I thought it was saying that he is a tree[iii]."

"Soon, we would be teaching them proper speech."

"Yes, and soon you would be annoying them with it," the amused Noldo told his companion as they continued tramping through the countryside. "Great lords may hold the lands of Arda, but your people are most knowledgeable of all things that live in it."

"We seek to own no land," Legolas replied. "We wish only to live in harmony with it."

By dusk, they have set camp near the bank of one of the seven rivers of Ossiriand.

"This river," Glorfindel started. "It seems as if a hundred raindrops are laughing and singing in this river. What is its' name?"

"Legolin," the elf replied. "I was named after it by my mother."

"I see," Glorfindel turned to his companion and stared at Legolas' eyes, young and untouched by grief.

"Something troubles you," the younger elf said noticing the silence of his companion.

"My liege have called us," started Glorfindel. "I'm afraid I must return to Nevrast soon."

"Oh," Legolas said in a small voice. "When would you be returning?"

"I shan't be long," the Noldo replied ruffling Legolas' hair in a child-like gesture, and the wood-elf swatted it away.

"Well then," Legoals finally said, "I shall come with you to Doriath. At least you'll have company halfway[iv]."

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\

Though loath is the King of Doriath to befriend the Lords from the West, his realm is not closed to his kin, the Ossirand elves least of all.

And in parting in the woods of Neldoreth, Legolas and Glorfindel chanced upon Lúthien, fairest of all the Children of Ilúvatar. And Glorfindel, who has not seen before the daughter of Thingol and Melian, fell into enchantment as Lúthien danced and sang in the unfading grass, with silvers of moonlight on her long ebony hair.

"Few who lives not in Menegroth could ever chance upon the daughter of the King, and fewer still would claim it," Legolas told his companion in a low tone.

"Why is that?" asked the Nandor.

"Daeron the minstrel is one to be reckoned with, but the heart of Lúthien he has not won. There is no elf of any kindred that she desires." But little did the younger elf know what his words would mean[v].

At this Glorfindel noticed the other elf was looking away and is eager to be off, tapping his foot lightly on the damp grass. The Noldo gave a slight smirk.

Leaning over to his companion with lips barely brushing over the other's pointed ear, he whispered, "I need not fear the minstrel Dearon, for I belong to no one save for the young elf I met in the woods of Hithlum."

Legolas watched agape at the older elf's retreating back, not knowing what to make of the whispered remark. A slow burn started creeping across his pale face.

Shaking his head to clear unwanted images that was starting to form, Legolas hurried after the Noldo.

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\

Two and fifty years have passed since the wood-elf last saw the Noldo. Legolas never left Doriath since then and became well known to the people of Thingol. For elves, the years are but a few leaves in the forest, but for the longing heart, it seems as if a dozen ages of Arda has passed.

Little did Legolas know that even now, one of the greatest elven cities is being crafted under the skillful hands of the elves. But since none who came to Gondolin can ever step beyond its white walls, no news of this hidden city was heard. It seems as if the host of Turgon have vanished from Arda.

And Legolas knew that Glorfindel was among them.

_"Upon my return, I will take you to the sea. I will tell you what I can about the lands beyond." _

This was a promise made by the Elf-Lord ere he went to Nevrast. A promise that Legolas long gave up on.

At this time, the sons of Finarfin were the guests of Thingol, for they wish to see their sister, Galadriel, who dwells in the realm of the Sindarin folk.

And it came to pass that in the Great Hall on the feast of Spring that the lies that Morgoth has planted blossomed.

Legolas first heard the few mutterings in the table of the King which later became voices of anger. In the midst of the voices were two of the Lords of Beleriand, King Thingol of Doriath and Finrod, King of Nargothrond.

Their voices were carried over the silence that has befallen the Hall, reaching Legolas from whence he sat.

"Ill have you done to me, kinsman, to conceal so great matters from me. For now I have learned all the evil deeds of the Noldor," the voice of Thingol rang clearly for all to hear.

"What evil deed have I or the Noldor done in all your realm to grieve you, lord?" Fingon answered. "Neither against your kingship nor against any of your people have we thought evil or done evil."

"I marvel at you, son of Eärwen," said Thingol, "that you would not come to the board of your kinsman thus red-handed from the slaying of your mother's kin, and yet say naught in defence, nor yet seek any pardon!"

A clatter of a chair that fell in the ground. An ashen face of an Ossiriand elf. The flight of an elf of Olwë's sundered people.

Legolas wanted to listen no more, nor was he able to hear the bitterness as Angrod tell of the Kinslaying in Alqualondë.

To have blood spilt in the Holy Lands, the blood of his people no less, and to have learned that their kinsman from the West are red-handed, it was all too much.

His head was reeling. He knew not what to think.

Torn between anger and grief. Torn between his own people whom he knew not and the people whom he had learned to understand and perhaps grown to love. Torn by his longing to reach the Land of the Eldar and the fear of what grief he will find there.

Legolas was torn.

But it was no less then the truth. A truth that he has to live with. A truth that he must bring back to his people in the woods of Ossiriand.

He knew he was to be a herald of pain.

He made his way among the trees, willing himself to fall not into the darkness of his own grief.

"Legolas!"

The wood-elf whirled to see the owner of voice that called his name. He knew that voice.

Golden hair and bright eyes greeted his senses. A warmth drove some of the darkness away as Legolas was enfolded in a tight embrace. The comfort of a familiar presence.

Glorfindel in turn was speaking breathlessly and was bursting in excitement.

"…missed you so…would not believe…glorious hidden city…cannot come out, Turgon's orders, but managed to persuade him…come to take you with me…will show you what my home looks like in Tirion, in Valinor—"

Legolas stiffened at the mention of the Blessed Realm. Roughly, he pushed the startled Noldo away, saying ere he fled:

"Touch me not, kinslayer."

  


* * *

[i] The tounge of the Nandor, Nandorin, is a descent from the Common Telerin, but many of the Green-elves know Sindarin. "…little is known of the Silvan Elvish." – JRR Tolkien

[ii] The root _kal- _(_gal-_) is Sindarin for 'shine.'

[iii] _galadh_ means 'tree' in Noldorin speech

[iv] For those interested and have yet to read Silmarillion, Nevrast lie in the NW of Beleriand, west of Hithlum, while Ossiriand is in the SE (opposite ends!) and Doriath is in the smack center. This may yet prove to be significant in the story…maybe.

[v] Lay of Leithian anyone? ^.^v


	4. Part Three: i Nuredhil

Disclaimers: I do not own Tolkien's wonderful wonderful universe…merely borrowing this fine piece of literature (without his consent!). But I'm not making any penny out of anything, so there. 

AN: I re-read and edited the first few parts of the fic. It seems that I've been using Nandor to refer to the Ossiriand elves when I should have been using Laiquendi, and I found that out _after_ I've edited them, so I'll just change them later I guess. But that doesn't affect the story, it's just the technicalities, and besides, the Laiquendi _did_ come from the Nandor. And I have a lot of run-on sentences which I can't seem to fix --;;; 

Rating: PG13 as of now, but ratings will climb on later parts. 

**Warning!** contains SLASH! (male x male relationships) this is your chance to back out. Remember, you're NOT being forced to read this! 

Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel; others…depends, if the story allows. 

Thank you so much who reviewed the last part *hugs* Although I know that not many read this fic, it's nice to know that at least there are people who appreciate it ^^ I'll continue to write as long as I enjoy writing it. Special thanx to Gaberiel Yaslana, hope I won't disappoint you however the fic turns out. Sorry for the delay, I'll try to write faster!! 

**EldaQuenta  
_(Account of the Elves)_  
by valacirca **

**Part Three: i Núredhil **_(the Dark Elves)_****

_Kinslayer._

It haunted him. The word that his people long to forget. 

In the land of Aman, the Vanyar and the Noldor have set up their elven city upon the hill of Túna, Tirion it was called. The Telerin abode was by the shores of Eldamar, the Elvenhome, for they are the Sea-elves. Their city was named Alqualondë, the Haven of the Swans. The Eldar flourished and were blessed by the Valar and the light of the Two Trees[i] in Valinor. 

Of the Noldor, it is said that they are most beloved by the Vala Aulë[ii]. He and his people of the Maiar often came to the Nolor. Great became their knowledge and their skill. But their thirst for knowledge was greater still and they soon surpassed their teachers. Great love they have for words and would change often the names they give to things. And they were first to discover the earth-gems. Tools they devised for the cutting and the shaping of gems, and in carving them in many forms. These things they give freely for their delight was in their creation, and thus by their labour enriched all of Valinor. 

Greatest of all the craftsmen of the elves was Fëanor, son of Finwë, King of the Noldor. In wanting to preserve the light of the Two Trees, long did he labour and in secret, summoning all his lore and skill and power. At last he was able to create the Silmarils[iii], and not until the world has ended will it be known of what substance these jewels were made. 

Like the crystals of diamond and stronger than adamant, these Silmarils hold the light of the Two Trees blended. And Fëanor treasured them above all his creations. These he kept and freely gave sight to none save his father and seven sons. 

But evil was the heart of the Vala Melkor and the light of the Silmarils he desired for himself. 

Long was the tale of the darkening of Valinor, how the light of the Two Trees have ended and how the Silmarils were taken where the first blood stained Aman. But in Fëanor's anger, he turned to the Valar accusing and cursing them, for was not the evil Melkor a Vala too? An oath did he and his sons take, both terrible and grief-filled. 

So the Noldor sought to pursue the evil Melkor whom Fëanor named Morgoth, The Black Enemy, to the Realm of Arda. Their friends the Teleri they asked for aid to cross the Sea, but they were unmoved by the wrath of Fëanor who has angered the Valar. 

The White Ships of the Teleri are as precious to them as the gems of the Noldor. And when they refused to give these ships to the Noldor, Fëanor deemed it best to take them by force, for no other way they see to reach the Eastern Lands save through the Helcaraxë, the Grinding Ice in the far north. 

And so the host of Fëanor assailed the elves of Alqualondë who defended their treasures fiercely. 

Those at the rear saw their kin locked in battle and joined in the fray with no knowledge of the reason for the dispute. 

But kinslayers nonetheless, and thus shall we be till the end of our days. And in the land of Arda we chose the life of exile.

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

Upon reaching Ossiriand, Legolas went swiftly to his grandfather to bring tidings from the King of Doriath. Still, anger and grief flowed out from him and all knew of the ill tidings he brings.

During the first War ever fought in Arda, Denethor son of Lenwë, lord of the Laiquendi, fell in battle against the orcs. Although the battle was won, it was dear-bought and they took no king again and came never forth in open war. Thus Oropher, Lenwë's closest kin kept the people of Ossiriand together, but holds himself uncrowned. 

With the tidings from Doriath, grief was brought to the Land of Song and songs of lamentation they made. But of grudge against the Noldor they kept none, for although they were thought of as simple woodland people, through the help of all things that live in Arda, they became wise beyond the reckoning of others. 

Legolas and Oropher spoke long into the night for there are a lot of tidings from the lands beyond. The Shadow has begun to move again and some orcs are abroad. Legolas spoke naught of his grievances but Oropher knows what is in the heart that the mouth cannot say. 

"Grandfather, give me leave to seek Lenwë," the young Ossiriand elf said after they have discussed everything that the King in Doriath wishes to inform them. 

"It is against my counsel that you should seek Lenwë alone in the wild, but were your father here I am sure that he would let you go," Oropher said hesitantly. After a while he finally sighed and gave his answer. 

"Alas, from Hithlum he returns not yet, so you shall go with my blessing alone. But remember this son of Thranduil: of release from the bonds of fate that lie within you, you shall find none. Have a good faith for loath are we to lose you to grief." 

"To grief you shall not lose me, but I fear I can no longer stay so near a land and people of woe and battle." 

"So to forget…is that the wish of thy heart?" 

"It is so." 

"But where wilt thou find solace?" 

"Cuiviénen." 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

"So you have decided to go to the land from whence you came?" 

"Not by my choice alone, for greater matters are still at hand. I am to find the son of Thranduil." 

"In the search for one, you might find the other. But make no haste on which you choose to pursue, lest you find none at all." 

Glorfindel bowed before Lenwë in his halls. 

Upon reaching Ossiriand, Glorfindel found that Legolas had sought the land of the Nandor beyond Ered Lindon. There he had met with Oropher and asked him for aid. In return for the aid of the Laiquendi[iv], Oropher bade Glorfindel to find Legolas and ask him to return. 

_"That I cannot promise. If it is his wish to never return, then I cannot force him." _

_"Then grant me this, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, if chance would have it that you find my grandson and he wishes not to return, then you at least should return to bring us tidings." _

_"I will try." _

_"You will do more than try, lest my people should learn to despise the race of the kinslayers." _

_"I understand." _

_With that the golden-haired elf bowed and exited the chambers._

Glorfindel recalled the conversation with Oropher well. The people of Ossiriand showed no hostility as opposed to what he expected, but he felt sadness in the land. He knew that Oropher's lack of sympathy was a result of sadness for the loss of his grandson, and that he knew that Glorfindel was the cause of it. Once the deal has been made, elves were sent to accompany him to Lenwë's lands. 

So now he stood before Lenwë himself, the renowned Telerin who took with him the people now known as the Nandor. But it seems that he came too late once again. And although the Nandor are less friendly knowing that he is a High-elf among the Noldor, Lenwë himself greeting him as a kinsman long separated. 

Glorfindel was about to leave when Lenwë spoke to him once more. 

"Do you still wish to follow him?" asked the wise leader of the Nandor. 

"Yes," came the quiet reply. "Even if I should go farther than Cuiviénen and into lands unknown even to the Valar." 

And Lenwë, satisfied with his answer, gave these words to Glorfindel: "Go north, and there you shall find Hitheaglir, the Towers of Mist. Then turn and go ever east. Straight but long is the road to Cuiviénen, and many perils lie before you of creatures dark and nameless still. That is the same road which I have given Legolas ere he departed." 

Bowing low, Glorfindel offered him his humblest thanks. Now the journey does not seem so futile. 

Striding resolutely, he came to his three companions from Ossiriand. 

"I shall be going to Cuiviénen," said Glorfindel. "Legolas has already gone and I must follow." 

Damrod, the leader of the three strode forward and offered him their thanks. 

"My lord, if you would bring back Legolas, then we shall be indebted to you. Already the land misses our young kin, and lesser songs are sung." 

"Fear not, I shall do what I can." 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

The road is indeed long and perilous to say the least. The land is much too wild and danger comes with it. Untamed would be a better choice of word, or so Legolas thought. 

"Untamed and uncultured," muttered the elf to himself. 

It seems that the race of men have been multiplying in earnest and the young elf had encountered a rather wild group. The word savage often used only for beasts, may perhaps be used as an exception at this time. Legolas barely escaped with his life. Not that his skills in combat are not sufficient, but to be assaulted by a band of wild men is an extremely difficult predicament to get out of. Hungry, wild cannibals. 

Beasts he could handle, orcs even, but not the Children of Iluvatar. Though this certain band are more savage that the cruelest beast he had ever encountered, still they are His children. And it is their doom not to be taught by the Valar, and grudged them not. Instead, he pitied them. 

Of other beasts he has stumbled upon, only a few can be truly called evil. Untamed yes, but for an elf of the woods, it is not an impossible task to subdue them. After all, the Ents were once as stubborn and as unyielding as the river Anduin. 

Long is the road to Cuiviénen, and Legolas knew not how long he has been traveling. Although he long to behold the Waters of Awakening, he could not say that the journey is unrewarding. Unconsciously, he has been relearning the old and forgotten lore of the Moriquendi[v]. 

"And now, a moments rest for the weary!" and with that the young elf started setting up camp while singing of his home far away in the west. But not long after had started cooking his meal did he hear a crash and a ringing of steel. 

Being wary lest he gets caught again in an assault by wild men, he crept up to the source of the noise. Faintly did he hear voices, both harsh and unlovely. 

_Wild orcs!_ But of how they came to have weapons he did not know. 

"_Gurth an Glamhoth!_[vi]" 

Legolas' heart dropped. He knew that voice. Throwing caution to the winds, the woodland elf went through the thick woods, running for what is worthy of his name, fleet footed. Rounding a thicket of beech woods, Legolas saw what he feared he would find. 

Glorfindel. 

Under assault by a host of orcs. 

Legolas stood rooted to where he was, the Noldo have not yet seen him. His mind was frozen, he could not move nor think nor even act upon his instinct to help Glorfindel. Seeing him brought a lot of questions of why and how he found him. It brought a lot of qualms as to the other dangers he encountered in looking for him. 

Did he encounter the wild cannibals? Or had he ran across the wargs just beyond the still unnamed mountains? Or maybe he met the stags that Legolas himself have tamed? But foremost in his mind right now was a certain decision he has to make, needs to make. And he needed the answer without delay. 

Would he stay to help the kinslayer? Or would he get out now before the orcs could see him? 

Already, he could see orcs pressing on the elven-lord from all sides. Although a lot of heads have already piled up at Glorfindel's feet, the assault still did not waver. A moment of hesitation on Legolas' part would result in unwanted endings. His rational mind was still debating with his overwhelming emotions trapped in betrayal. Logic seemed to be slipping away. This is one of his weaker traits and he knew it. 

The sudden howl from the orcs snapped Legolas from his trance. 

Blood. 

They have drawn blood. 

Even before his mind could formulate his decision, his hands have already fitted an arrow on his bent bow. Yes, it was one of his weaker traits, to follow the will of his heart rather than to yield to logic. But at this moment, both logic and heart seemed to have come to a truce. 

"Tûl acharn![vii]" And with that, the bow of Legolas sang. 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

One by one, orcs fell to the silver arrows of the Ossiriand elf. Glorfindel was overcome with renewed hope and a rush of completeness. At last his quest will soon come to an end. With renewed vigor he redoubled his efforts to hold the orcs back. 

The orcs howled in anger and disappointment. Angry shouts floated through the air. They have been having trouble with this one elf, and now they are two. At last some of the orcs seemed to have turned against their companions. Right then and there did Glorfindel realize the true intent of the orcs. 

They did not wish to kill him, they wanted to capture him. 

A shiver ran down his spine. The proud race of the Noldor feared little or none at all, but this thought brought Glorfindel fear that he has never experienced. He heard of tales about how the Black Enemy, Morgoth, corrupted the dark elves, mutilating them and scarring them. He would disfigure them take away their beauty, light and happiness so that nothing would be left save for anger, hate and thirst for vengeance to their Dark Master. 

They have become the orcs, serving their Master because of fear. 

What started as a struggle to escape from the clutches of the orcs became a desperate battle to save his life and that of Legolas. He is now determined to slay them all. 

Glorfindel slowly came to a halt in the midst of the fray. Immersing himself in a sort of trance, he brought his left hand behind him drawing a thin dagger, white as the moon. He then raised his sword hand to his heart, the Elven blade pointing straight towards the heavens in a form of salute. His dagger hand stretched to his left, the light from his sword reflecting on the short blade. 

"_Aulë, le nallon sí di-nguruthos![viii]_" 

And for the second time in his life, Legolas saw the Dance of the Swords. Fast and furious were the strokes, and not as magical as before. Instead, he now feared both the dance and the dancer before him. Blood and limbs were flying everywhere. There was a light in Glorfindel's eyes fearful to behold, and the hands of Legolas wavered. 

Glorfindel passed through his enemies, a whirlwind of death.

The woodland elf feared that because of the swift motions of the dance, he might accidentally hit the Noldo. But the Noldo dodged the arrows as easily as he dodged the blows of the orcs. But the more desperate the orcs fight, the more they overcome the two elves. Sheer will and skill would not overcome a host of desperate orcs. 

Already, Glorfindel feels the weight of the Sword Dance taxing upon him. He knew he would not be able to hold on longer. Legolas have joined in the fray, his quiver ran empty. Drawing his daggers, he fought his way to Glorfindel, to fight beside him, thus lessening the assault from all sides. 

The Noldo knew his doom is at hand. The cries of the orcs are growing louder. A shower of arrows came whistling down on them. 

_They are fighting amongst each other again. _This was the thought that came to the Western elf. _Be that they decide to kill us instead, than surrender us to the Dark One._ Struggling to find his voice, he barely shouted to Legolas above the noise of the orcs. 

"Run while you can, I shall be able to hold them back, but not for long." 

Legolas turned to find his companion already on his knees. 

"Glorfindel!" 

The last thing that Glorfindel saw was the face of a lost beloved. 

"Run…" he whispered.

Next part: Makililta (_Sword Dance_) II -- Damn, I've been wanting to write this sword dance for so long, just waiting for the right moment. This next part might take a while, I want it to be magical, or something like that. Also, the slash parts will start to come in. 

  


* * *

[i] Before the Sun and the Moon, there were two trees in Valinor, Telperion and Laurelin, which is their source of light, hence the name _Calaquendi_, elves of light for those who have seen the Two Trees and _Moriquendi_, the elves of darkness. All the Noldor are of the Calaquendi while the Sindar, Nandor and Laiquendi are of the Moriquendi. 

[ii] Aule is a Vala and one of the Aratar, the Eight High Ones of Arda, and is third in power. He is a smith and master of all crafts and rules over all substance of which Arda was made. 

[iii] In this three jewels revolve the beautiful, powerful and sorrowful history of Arda 

[iv] Those of the Nandor who entered Beleriand 

[v] Elves who have not seen the Light of the Two Trees 

[vi] "death to [the] din-horde" 

[vii] "Vengeance comes" 

[viii] "Aulë, to thee I cry now in _[lit. beneath]_ the shadow of death" I really don't know (or I may have forgotten) the name the Elves gave to Aulë, so I just used that. 


	5. Part Four: Muildor

**Disclaimers:** I don't own the characters here, the realm of Beleriand, nor Arda. Everything here is Tolkien's…just borrowing them ^_^ 

**Warnings:** SLASH content (y'know mxm?) Glorfindel/Legolas. Don't like? Don't read. 

**AN:** *hides* Oops, sorry for the _extremely_ long delay. I just thought I'd let the end of the sem pass before I do any writing (and concentrate on writing my papers instead) _ Anyway, I guess that long hiatus didn't do too much good coz I forgot what I was supposed to write and instead this came out. 

But anyway, I'll just stop the ranting and I hope that you guys won't be disappointed with this one. Hopefully I'd be able to write another chapter before summer classes starts…which is about a week and a half from now. 

**Cireoe Anumen **(erm, did I get the spelling right?) thank you for the correction ^.^ but actually it is Leithian (the whole title being The GEST of BEREN son of BARAHIR and LÚTHIEN the FAY called TINÚVIEL the NIGHTINGALE or the LAY OF LEITHIAN Release from Bondage) It goes to show that I didn't do proper footnotes *whacks forehead* 

Please enjoy and reviews (especially corrections) will be greatly appreciated. 

**EldaQuenta**_  
(Account of the Elves)_  
by valacirca 

**Part Four: Muildor _(Land of Twilight)_ **

No longer did Legolas heed the fray and the hail of arrows that surrounds him, he gathered Glorfindel in his arms not noticing the falling orcs beside him. 

And in this final moment the woodland elf has no other thought in his mind save that of the Noldo. Memories came unbidden in his mind of the many wonderful moments in his life that was brought by this Western Lord. 

And then there came pain. 

He felt a stab of searing pain in his back. 

And then the darkness fell. 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

He has heard tales of the Halls of Mandos[i]. Yes, there were tales, but who is to say what is real? None have ever returned from those Halls to make songs of lament, but there are still. 

_I should create new songs of the Halls of Mandos,_ thought the young elf. _It does not feel hallowed here, nor entirely silent._

But he did feel the oldness of time seeping through his senses. And the soft mutterings of the echoing silence are starting to irritate him, so he decided to get up. 

_Why am I lying down anyway?_ Then he remembered. Those last few moments that he held the Noldo in his arms and the chaos of the surrounding orcs beside him. _Has he survived? _He thought. _Surely his fate is far different from mine, or else he should have come and greeted me upon my arrival here. Or perhaps I am the one to greet his coming._ And the elf started getting up from the soft ground. 

A sudden burst of white pain filled his senses. 

Legolas nearly screamed at the pain that gripped his back had he not remembered the imposing silence of the Halls of Waiting that he heard in songs sung in his land. _Why does pain follow even after I have passed on? Does the Valar intend for us to suffer until the reign of the Atani has ended?_ He then felt hands pushing to lay him down in the soft earth once more. 

Then he heard them. 

The quiet murmurings are not echoes of silence but voices of the winds. Hauntingly familiar, yet strange to his ears. He stilled his movements and strained his ears to listen to the world around him, but all he heard was silence. 

It was then that he realized that he could not see anything. His eyes were open yet he could see nothing. Blindly, he groped and felt around though he knew not what he seeks. And at that instant he stilled when he realized something that he should have known the moment he has awaken. 

He was not in the Halls of Waiting, least of all in the lands of the Valar. 

Fear washed over his senses as quickly as the pain has come moments ago. He dared not think of what fate lies now before him, for there are no other save that of torment from the hideous orcs that has captured him. Shuddering at the thought he forced himself to be still and feel for bonds, but there is none. He then, knowing not what shall come, decided to save his strength and try to figure out how to escape come the light of day or the sliver of light from either the moon or the stars. 

In the morn he shall be prepared he thought ere he drifted off to the dreams of his beloved Ossir. 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

Legolas returned from the land of dreams into that of the living when he heard a familiar song being sung. He knew it was that of the lands of the West beyond the Sea, but the words he cannot understand. Somehow, it has changed. 

As the dawn breaks from above the trees, Legolas can faintly see that he is alone. Had he remembered the fear that he was captured by orcs, he would not have gotten up and try to follow the voices of the winds. But he did not, so he got up, slow and painful though it is. 

A sharp cry escaped his lips as he eased himself from the ground. 

"You are not well enough to try and get up, Son of Thranduil." 

The woodland elf turned to where the voice came. _Yes, that same deep voice and those golden hair never fail to show up_, thought Legolas, so much that it no longer is a surprise for him. There was a long moment of silence as one looks intently at the other. No words are spoken, but they are needed. It is the barrier that severs one from the other, but neither knew how to start. 

"They sing of the glory of the Valar and the Realms of Valinor," said Legolas at last though he understood them not, but he knew the song that they sing. 

"Once it was, and that was a long time ago when the land was sill in bliss," replied Glorfindel. "But the Western shores that I remember no longer glow with the Light of the Two Trees." 

"Will you tell me of those lands?" asked Legolas. 

And the Noldo launched into a tale of the land beyond the Sea. Of the beauty of the people of the Vanyar, their kin who first heeded the summons of the West. Of the many wondrous crafts of his people that they left behind. Of the greater part of his people, the Golden Flower, who not for any love would travel away from the land that they long traveled for from the East, from Cuiviénen. 

In the Land of the Undying lies many stores of secrets of Arda and the Noldo are the only ones who sought them. With the help of Aulë and his Maiar the Noldo learned about the gems dug from under the earth and how to fashion them as none would ever see in Arda. Of the making of wondrous armours that give off their own light and would never break upon blows dealt by any man. 

Such was the skill of the Noldo that they surpassed their teachers and crafted not only stores of treasure but built cities of wonders from which sprung songs of splendor and majesty. But still they thirst for knowledge and only they are ones who would dare travel far away from their homes and into the wilds of Valinor where Maiar and Valar alike wear no earthly raiment but lives as spirits wild and free. 

And upon the shores of the land are the white vessels, the Swan ships of the Teleri. Seldom do these white ships rest on impressive harbours for often they travel back to Tol Eressëa, back to visit their friend, Ossë Lord of the Sea in the shores of Arda. The Noldor were at first interested in the craft of shipbuilding, but when they have learned all that there is to learn from their kin, they ventured back into the land searching for new knowledge. 

All the while when Glorfindel was saying all this, he has lapsed into a trance as if telling them had brought him back into the land where his people had lived. But upon the mention of the elves of Alqualondë, the golden-haired elf paused and glanced at Legolas. 

He was quiet and unmoving. 

"They are a wonderful people," said Glorfindel. "And not for anything would we hold our weapons against them save for the defense of our kin." 

Slowly, Legolas moved closer to where the Noldo was resting with his back against a tree. The Ossiriand sat on one enormous root beside him. The Noldo gave a concerned look when he saw the other's face grimace in pain as he sat down. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"Quite, I can manage," was the other's reply. 

The chorus of the song floated o where they were resting. Legolas turned away and sang along quietly to himself. His own tongue blending with that of the unknown language of the winds. 

"I have had time to think you know," said Legolas. "I may have been too hasty on my decision to journey. You see, too long have I dreamed of reaching the Lands of the West. I dreamed that I was there with my kin in the bliss of the land. 

"I thought that that land was untouched by the darkness, unlike here in Arda. I was shaken when I heard of the Kinslaying , not even here would we dare to spill the blood of an elf." 

"I would not tell you that it is not our fault as a people, for indeed this fault is ours to bear," said Glorfindel. "But the deceit of Morgoth run deep and we knew not at that moment what is right and what isn't. I only hold the people of Fingolfin blameless for starting the battle. We were behind the host of Fëanor and when we reach the Havens battle is already afoot." 

"I think I understand," replied the woodland elf. "It is difficult to love a people that you knew nothing about save that they are your kin. But it is more difficult to hate a people you have grown to love because of a misgiving to a kin you do not know." 

Glorfindel slowly reached for the younger elf and gently gathered him in his arms. Legolas did not push him away. 

"Will it then be better if you would forgive the other?" asked Glorfindel. "Would you forgive me?" 

"There is nothing to forgive for you only acted in defense," replied Legolas. Basking in the warmth of the embrace of the other, Legolas could not think of why _it_ had torn them apart. Tightening his hold onto the older elf, Legolas felt all the weariness ease from his shoulders and slowly drifted off into contented sleep. 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

"When I saw you earlier I realized that we were not captured after all," said Legolas, now awake but is lying down on his stomach as Glorfindel dress his wound. "Ugh, how big is that wound anyway? I hurts as if a balrog has whipped it sore." 

"A balrog?" asked the Noldo. 

"You do not know what a balrog is?" asked Legolas, as if amazed that the Elf Lord, in all his journeys in Arda, has not learned about balrogs. 

"Nay," replied the older elf. 

"Well they are for one, creatures of flame and shadow," said Legolas as he began describing a balrog. "It wields a cruel blade in one hand and whip on the other. It has a vast pair of wing of shadow and flame would sprout from its nostrils. They are very powerful and evil to behold." 

"They sound evil indeed," said the Noldo. "No creature of Arda would ever slay me, save maybe for this balrog that you speak of." 

"Ai," cried the younger elf and swatted playfully at Glorfindel. "Do not jest about something like that. You would wish that you have not said that had you seen a real balrog." 

"Then let us hope that I shall never have to face one." It would be a long time before Glorfindel would understand the true meaning of his words. 

"So," continued Legolas. "From what I gathered from you, the rain of silver arrows are from dark elves? But where are they? I would like to meet these dark elves so that I can take them to Lenwë. We cannot have them captured by orcs." 

"I deem that these elves are no ordinary dark elves," said Glorfindel. 

The woodland elf eyed his companion curiously. "Moriquendi[ii] are Moriquendi. One cannot change that fact. How can they be any different?" 

"Did you know how far you have traveled ere I reached you?" asked the Noldo. 

"Nay, I did not count the passing of the moon," replied the Ossiriand elf. "Why?" 

The Noldo could only smile in reply. 

"What?!" cried the other in mock annoyance. 

"Come," said the Noldo. He then leaned forward and whispered huskily in Legolas' ear. "I will show you something." 

He then took the other's hand and led him away from their small camp. Long did they trek into the wild forest while the younger elf kept asking where they are going. The other replied in riddles and this only further aggravated Legolas. At last when the last rays of dusk settled beyond their view they came upon a vast clearing. 

The woodland elf stood stiff as a stone when realization dawned upon him to where the other had taken him. A vast lake now lay before him reflecting the light of the stars at they peeked from beyond the night sky. The moon has not shown herself that night and this only added to the magic of the place. The night sky stretched endlessly before them and a billion stars that he has not seen before adorned the heavens. It was then that he beheld the full beauty of the sky that the Lady of the Stars has made. 

Beyond the lake lay a lush and ancient woods, far older that anything he has ever seen. He felt young again. It was then that Legolas heard the faint whispers of a song, akin to the voices of the wind that he heard earlier. And again, he heard the tongue that was long sundered from his people. He shivered in suppressed delight and for a long time he could say nothing. 

He turned to his companion opening his mouth to speak but nothing would come out. Glorfindel could only smile for his first reaction was no different from Legolas' when he first came here. 

"Behold Cuiviénen," he whispered to the younger elf's ear. 

"Cuiviénen," said Legolas very slowly as if tasting the word in his tongue for the first tme. "By Elbereth!" was the last thing he said before tears started falling freely from his eyes. The Noldo enfurled him in his arms and they were like that for a long time drinking in the beauty of the Waters of Awakening. 

/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\*/\ 

Glorfindel awoke in the middle of the night. He turned and saw that Legolas was not there so he got up to search for the younger elf. He found him sitting near the water's edge seemingly reaching for the cool waters but not touching it, as if afraid of defiling something sacred.

For indeed, to all the elves who journeyed West, this place is hallowed ground. 

Glorfindel quietly approached Legolas. 

"Where are they?" asked Legolas quietly. "Where are the Avari[iii]?" 

"I know not," replied the Noldo. "When they rescued us from the orcs I had fainted. I woke up in a camp with fire and food and dressings for your wound. They would come each day discreetly and leave us with anything we might need. I was able to track them one day. They are a very interesting people, they taught me much in the few hours I've spent with them." 

Legolas' head snapped to attention and quickly faced the Noldo. 

"You _talked_ to them?!" he asked disbelievingly. 

"I tried," replied the older elf as if it was nothing. "Their tongue is much sundered from ours, but it sounded a bit like Old Noldoric." 

Legolas can only stare in amazement. 

"We could track them down tomorrow if you want," said Glorfindel. Then he turned serious and asked while gazing at the other's eyes. "Would you like me to teach you how to dance?" 

The woodland elf's eyes shone. "You'd teach me how?" he said smiling brilliantly. 

The other elf nodded. "Under the heavens that Varda[iv] created, I shall tech you the dance of Aulë." 

The Noldo then unfastened the clasp of his cloak and laid it on the grass. From the folds of his garment he produced a silken cloth and gave it to Legolas. The woodland elf unfolded the silk and was surprised to see two long knives with the handles white as the hands of the Maker of the Stars. He drew one from its sheath and felt the cold blade on his fingers. 

"These knives I made in my home in the West," said Glorfindel. "I now give it to you, may it protect you from danger and may it never fail you in desperate battles." 

"I—I cannot take this," stammered Legolas. "It's too beautiful." And indeed it was for it was filled with etches of silver leaves and mysterious runes unknown to him. "Do you really wish for me to accept this?" 

"I do so," replied the Noldo. "And with it I shall teach you what you have long desired, the Dance of Swords." 

Legolas smiled brilliantly. "Thank you," he said. 

"Now, there are many forms of _Makililta_ although they are basically bound by the same principles," continued Glorfindel. "The one you have seen when I fought the orcs is the one used for battles. That I shall teach you—" 

"Teach me the one I saw in Hithlum," interrupted Legolas. 

Glorfindel looked at Legolas intently. 

"You know now what you ask for." 

"I wish to learn it. By far it is the most beautiful thing I have seen, save this land of the Avari." 

Glorfindel thought for a moment. Then he gave a deep breath before asking him again. 

"It is the Dance of Binding," said Glorfindel as if it is hard for him to tell this to the other. "It binds one to the other for until they enter the Halls of Mandos. Do you still wish me to teach it to you." 

"Yes, it is my wish," said Legolas firmly and with much resolve. 

The Noldo's eyes softened and he gave a nod. "Very well then. This is the hardest of all for it requires trust from both dancers. There are no real steps to the dance, only when you feel the pull of the sword will you realize that you are already dancing. That is why trust is important." 

"I trust you," said Legolas simply and unsheathed both his long knives. 

Glorfindel then unsheathed his sword and drew his dagger from behind him and started circling Legolas. Legolas stood unmoving but trailed the other's movement with his eyes. Already he feels the need to wield his weapon, not against the other…only to dance. 

Glorfindel then darted forward and used his sword to parry with the knives. Leaning closer, as if in slow motion, he drew the flat of his dagger caressing Legolas' cheek almost breaking the pale skin, but no blood was drawn. He flashed a quick smile to the shocked Legolas and moved away as the other counterattacked with his long knives. 

Legolas then understood how sensual this dance is. He understood how one was bound to it by the other. 

And now he plans revenge. 

Deftly he moved out of the other's range and came in from behind. Turning to catch the woodland elf, the Noldo suddenly became aware how close the other was. Too close in fact that he had to step back to raise his sword. He was ready to deal another blow when he felt soft lips press against his and he stood in shock. The other quickly moved away but not before breathing 'Now we are even.' 

Glorfindel smiled. _The young one learns fast_, he thought. _But I shall win the next round_. 

And so under the starlit night and into the dawn, the Avari watched in fascination from their dwellings. It seemed as if the stars has come down to where the light reflects their weapons and the quiet ringing of the caress of steel against steel echoed into the silent valley. 

------ 

Please review and comment! Good? Bad? Yawn? Blah? 

Hope you guys enjoyed it. Next part…err, I still don't know yet.   
Btw, I saw a few clips of the Two Towers……can anyone tell me what Arwen is doing in there?!? She's not even supposed to be there. 

* * *

[i] This is the place where the elves go and wait when they die. 

[ii] These are the elves who have not seen the light of the Two Trees. They are those who did not reach Valinor before the exile of the Noldor. It includes even those who strayed in Beleriand. 

[iii] They are those who refused the Great Journey and stayed in Cuiviénen.

[iv] Another name for Elbereth, but not usually used by the elves. 


End file.
